


Gestures of love

by ysobel (isabeau)



Category: White Collar
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Sensory Deprivation, Sestina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-30
Updated: 2010-08-30
Packaged: 2017-10-11 08:52:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isabeau/pseuds/ysobel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter. Neal. Sex.  *shrug*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gestures of love

His touch is gentle, even through the need  
that runs through both of you; and you can feel  
the silky blackness of the ties, the ones he loves.  
One around your wrists, binding your hands,  
one loose around your throat, not tight, and one  
placed with care across your face, over your eyes.

He steps back, and you can't meet his eyes  
(but since you can't, it's the one thing you need)  
"You good there?" he says, and you give one  
nod, trying not to tremble at the feel  
of a warm steady gun-callused hand  
touching you with desire and with love

He's not the sort of person you should love;  
not a fed, because they're eye for an eye  
tooth for a tooth, hard metal cuffs for hands  
that lead to metal cages, where the need  
for freedom is lost beneath the feel  
of cement. But, oh, but-- he's the one

that you did in fact let catch you, not one  
time but twice. A gesture of love  
(or something) that you think he feels.  
There's brilliant wit behind his eyes  
and sometimes you think that he needs  
to bind not just your ankle, but hands

and sight. And mouth, but that's what hands  
are for, with fingers you can nibble, one by one  
and draw from him the rough sounds of need.  
He groans and bites your neck, a mark of love  
that you will later leave open to any eye  
because you are his; both of you feel

the rightness of this fact, just as it feels  
right to have him grip you with his hands  
In darkness, blacker than a blinking eye  
Everything is deeper; you are both one  
He touches you, and holds you, and you love  
him more than you ever thought you'd need.

You don't ever say "I love you"; there's no need  
When every one of your reactions he can feel  
And sightless, your bound hands are now your eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Howwww the heck did I end up WRITING A FREAKING SESTINA? *headdesk*


End file.
